


What Could Have Been

by LumosLyra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Divorced Hermione Granger, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Quidditch, Smut, Soulmates, The Smut Grew Feelings, What the fuck muse, because i'm trash, tattooed viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra
Summary: Hermione takes her daughter to a Quidditch Match and reconnects with a man from her past, wondering all the while what their future might hold.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Comments: 35
Kudos: 94
Collections: Love for KrumPuffer





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrumPuffer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrumPuffer/gifts).



> Hello KrumPuffer! When meditationsinemergencies put together this collection for you, I jumped at the chance to write a Viktor/Hermione (even though I've read very little of this pairing). What started as a sweet little 1k idea somehow grew into a 7k monstrosity. I had so much fun writing this for you and I hope you enjoy! :) 
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

It had been years since she’d seen him in person, but the sight of him never failed to take her breath away—broad shoulders, thick inked forearms covered in a smattering of dark hair, a stoic expression which hid a smile so bright it was blinding, muscled thighs she wanted to sink her teeth into, eyes ringed with kindness and subtle intelligence. 

War, rebuilding, two Masteries, followed by a whirlwind romance and subsequent divorce had kept them apart save for the occasional letter and cards exchanged at Yule and on birthdays. 

But she remembered him—the way his body moved over hers, how his strong hands and seeker-quick reflexes kept her on edge, the soft brush of his lips, and the smiles saved only for her. Impossible to forget, even if it had been several years since she’d seen him. 

He was surrounded by a group now, women made up with beauty charms so thick the sheen of magic was evident and draped in jerseys bearing his name. One brushed his forearm with her fingers, deliberately stroking over one of the intimate patterns he’d inked there, and Hermione watched as Viktor carefully pulled away, keeping his face impassive so as not to give offense. The last thing the Bulgarian Seeker needed was his name in the press for being anything but kind to fans right before the World Cup. 

Hermione felt the tug of a much smaller hand against her own and she pulled her eyes away from the sight and down to the little girl with wild curls and freckles smattered across her nose. 

“Mummy! It’s Viktuh Kwum!” 

Hermione knelt low, balancing carefully to bring her eyes to meet her daughter’s, eyes flicking towards the man for whom she held such fond memories and fantasies of  _ what could have been _ . 

“It is, darling. Would you like to meet him?” 

The four year old gave several emphatic nods, curls bouncing around her face as her tiny hands fisted the fabric of an old jersey Hermione had carefully resized to fit the little Quidditch fanatic. Attending the match had been a gift from Uncle Ron while the tiny broom and miniature snitch that she’d slept with for three nights now had been a gift from Uncle Harry. 

“Can we, mummy?”

Hermione leaned forward and brushed the dark curls away from her daughter’s face before standing back up, leading the little girl toward the crowd. As they neared, Viktor’s dark gaze snapped away from the blonde in front of him, and their eyes met. The relief that seemed to wash over him at the sight of her made her cheeks flush. His gaze darted back to the blond in front of him and while she couldn’t hear the words, it was clear he was excusing himself. 

The distance closed between them and there was a strange pleading glint in his eye that made her heart flutter. Hermione reached down and lifted her daughter into her arms, the little girl’s face lighting up in a smile of utter delight. The roar of the crowd around them died down as Hermione found herself engulfed in Viktor’s arms, his lips brushing against her cheek. 

His voice, low and dark, whispered against her ear, “Play along.” 

Hermione barely had time to consider his words before thick fingers swept into her curls and his mouth was hot on hers. It was brief and chaste but the heat of his body and the scent of him swirling in the air made her dizzy. Her fingers curled into his shirt in a desperate bid to steady herself as she felt the weight of the small child against her being shifted out of her arms and into his. 

“ _ Zdraveĭ za teb, sladkoto mi slŭnchitse,” _ he said, granting the little girl one of the smiles he rarely displayed in public. By the look of awe on Roslin’s face, Hermione wasn’t certain whether her daughter might burst into tears or refuse to let him go when he inevitably handed her back. Her little arms flew around his neck and she buried her face against his throat and all of those  _ what could have beens _ floated through Hermione’s mind. By all accounts, Roslin looked as if she could have been Viktor’s with her thick curls, darker complexion, and deep brown eyes. Even though Hermione would never deign to take Roslin away from a father who loved her, even if her parents had fallen out of love, there was still that pang of  _ what if _ lingering in the back of her mind when she saw them together. 

Victor’s hand lingered at her waist as he spoke carefully and quietly to Hermione’s daughter and Hermione leaned against him, content to remain tucked within his hold for the time being. 

The ruse was a simple one—pretend to be together for the sake of the media and to drive away the witches who wanted nothing more than a single night to brag about. She’d played the part with Harry and Draco on occasion, keeping the media from speculating about their own relationship, especially after the dissolution of her marriage, though she and Adrian remained on good terms. When she’d refused, Hannah had quietly stepped into her place and evidently, the pair of them grew more attached to the witch than either had expected. The unexpected triad had taken the wizarding world by storm and Hermione had already been named godmother of the tiny life growing in Hannah’s stomach, the world now speculating who the baby would resemble more — Harry or Draco. 

But playing this part with Viktor was new, even if ignoring the flash of cameras around them was not. Speculation would abound, though the press was well aware of who Roslin’s father was and carefully avoided printing anything about the little girl given how her lawyer-father had already run two publications into the ground for their stubborn refusal to seek permission prior to publishing anything about the four-year-old. 

As Roslin chattered about Quidditch, Viktor carefully listened and answered her questions, even as he began to steer the three of them away from the slowly clearing stadium and toward the private areas meant only for the players and their guests. 

Stepping into the cool room, out of the heat and away from the prying eyes of the public was a relief. The loss of Viktor’s hand at her waist weighed heavily upon Hermione’s heart and her fingers itched to move it back. She hadn’t been without companionship since her divorce and she wasn’t pining for physical affection from just anyone… but from this man, whom fate had seen fit to keep them apart and now, pull them together, well… it wasn’t something she was quite ready to step away from completely. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Viktor said, his face breaking into a wide smile. 

Hermione waved him off as he set Roslin down on the ground and pulled the snitch he’d caught earlier in the game from his pocket. “I take it there was no other plausible way out?”

Viktor nodded, “Not from that group, no. If you hadn’t come along, I probably would have withered away before they left me alone.” 

Roslin’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open as Viktor offered the snitch to her with a smile stretched over his face “For you,” he said, crouching down to present the token at her eye level. 

Her small hand curled around the snitch before she cradled it against her chest and looked up at Viktor with sheer joy shining in her eyes. “Thank you, Mistuh Kwum.” 

He mumbled an acknowledgment and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, “You do realize she’s never going to let that go.” 

Viktor shrugged, the thick muscles of his shoulders flexing beneath the standard team jersey he wore. “I caught it for her… a bit of extra incentive to play well.” His eyes followed the little girl as she ran around the space, moving the snitch in the air as though it were flying. 

Hermione’s hand settled against his bicep, her touch gentle and tentative, as she watched her daughter play. “You’re very kind.” 

He shook his head and turned toward Hermione, pulling her into a proper hug, unfortunately without the added bonus of another kiss. “Enough about me. How have you been, Hermione? It’s good to see you.”

Her arms slipped around his back, passing over the muscle to hug him tightly, allowing her head to rest against his chest for a brief moment before reluctantly pulling back. “As well as can be expected. Took the weekend off to bring Roslin to the game. Ron got her the tickets for her birthday.” 

He smiled down at her, the heavy weight of his hands settling against her arms. “Always so busy.” 

“Well look at you!” Hermione grinned, “It’s been impossible to see you because you’re always off galavanting around the world.” 

Teasing him felt familiar and easy, something that came as second nature from a time that seemed so long ago. Summers spent writing letters back and forth, meeting for the odd lunch when he was in the country and before she was forced to go on the run, the sheer relief in his voice when she’d seen him just before she returned to Hogwarts, the easy way she’d always felt around him, despite his fame and her own notoriety. 

“I’m thinking about retiring soon.” 

Anything she was going to say shriveled in her throat, only able to eke out a simple, “Oh?” 

He nodded, his eyes following Roslin around the room as she stopped and moved again, reenacting a game of Quidditch by tossing the tiny snitch through a set of miniature hoops in the holding room as if it were now a quaffle. 

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I’d like to settle down, at some point, maybe coach one of the kiddie leagues.” 

The snort that left Hermione’s nose was entirely inelegant but a wide smile spread across her lips as she met his eyes. “You? Coach children? Viktor, you can barely stand adults.” 

He made a face at her, his nose wrinkling and eyes crossing before he motioned toward Roslin. “But look at how much enthusiasm they have. I hope someone has already purchased her a broom because passion like that needs to be encouraged.” 

“Harry took care of that and she’s already fallen off of it twice and skinned her elbows, but she hops right back on as if it were nothing. Chases a low-speed snitch around the garden and would stay out there all day if I let her.” 

Viktor turned back toward her, the significance in his gaze making her heart flutter. “She’s a wonder, Hermione, truly. Much better in person than anything you could have possibly described in your letters.” 

Her heart warmed and she leaned once more into the warmth of Viktor’s body, his arms automatically encircling her as if she belonged there. “Thank you. She’s a bright spot of joy in my little world.” 

Silence lingered between them, neither stepping back as Viktor’s eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. “Do you have time to come to dinner? I’d love to treat the two of you.”

With a sigh, Hermione took a step back and shook her head. “I have to take Roslin to Adrian’s shortly. It’s normally his weekend with her, but we arranged for me to bring her to the game. He and Oliver have some grand plans involving an enormous cake and camping in the back-garden and I can’t, in good conscience, keep her longer than necessary.”

Viktor’s hand reached out and took Hermione’s, thumb brushing over the curve of her knuckles. “And after? Just us?” he asked, tone of his voice hopeful, yet guarded for her rejection. 

A smile spread over her lips, lifting her cheeks as she squeezed his hand. “I’d love to.” She held no expectations of what the night would hold, no matter what she might want. It would be wonderful, even if at the end of the night they remained nothing more than friends. She valued his friendship and had for many years, even if their interactions were sporadic. But she couldn’t deny how  _ right _ it felt to see him again, even if their brief moment of intimacy was just a ruse. 

“Good. That’s… that’s great.” A thick silence lingered between them until Hermione’s gaze was drawn away from Viktor by the feel of a tiny body crashing against her legs, hugging her. “Mummy! This is the best day evuh. I met Viktuh Kwum.” The four-year-old’s eyes were glassy and her cheeks were pink with excitement. She held up the snitch for Hermione to see, “And he gave me the snitch!” 

Reluctantly, Hermione drew her hand away from Victor’s hold, her hand brushing her daughter’s thick curls away from her face. “I know darling, I saw. It’s almost time to go see Daddy and Oliver.” 

Roslin wrinkled her nose, freckles bunching together along the curve. “But I want to stay hee-uh.” 

Hermione prepared herself for a fight given how over-excited Roslin had been the entire day, but before she could so much as respond to the little girl, Viktor dropped to a knee. “I think your Daddy and Oliver would like to see the snitch,” he said, pointing to the object in her hands. “They need you to tell them who won the game.” 

Her little chest puffed out with pride and her eyes widened, pulling the small gold object toward her chest. Her dark eyes shifted between Viktor and back to Hermione. “Mummy! I have to tell Daddy and Oyivuh who won the game. They don’t know.” 

“Then we best be going, shant we?” Hermione said, shooting Viktor a grateful look. Viktor swept the little girl up into his arms and stood to his full height, pulling a giggle from between her rosy lips. 

“Can I walk you out?” he asked, offering Hermione his hand. 

She nodded, slipping her palm against his, their fingers twining together. “I’d like that.” 

After reaching the apparition point, Viktor left Hermione with a kiss on her cheek, the name of his hotel, and a flood of excitement thrilling through her veins. She landed back in her flat and gathered Roslin’s bag before they were off through the Floo to meet Adrian and Oliver. She didn’t linger, hugging the two men briefly as Roslin chattered away about the game before leaving again through the Floo. 

Back in her flat, Hermione quickly showered and dressed before she made her way to Viktor’s hotel. He had evidently done the same, his dark hair neatly combed and his clothing crisp. Dinner had been lovely, a prix-fixe menu of small plates and a bottle of wine in a private area of the restaurant. Glances lingered over the table and hands brushed from across the space, fingers tentatively seeking and holding onto the other. It was clear from the moment she caught sight of him in the lobby of the hotel and he swept her into his arms and she only reluctantly pulled away when the flash of a camera sparked in the distance, that their night would last beyond the confines of dinner.

Accepting his invitation to return to his suite was automatic and she found herself tucked into his side as they walked out of the restaurant. The compression of apparition closed around her body when they reached an appropriate point, releasing only once they landed in the foyer of the suite. 

The feel of his mouth ghosting over hers, tentatively seeking permission, stoked the fire deep within her belly that had only grown over the course of the evening. Hermione’s body vibrated with need as she closed the distance between them, lips pressing firmly against Viktor’s as her arms threaded around his shoulders. Her fingers sank into his thick, dark hair as his hands curled around her hips, tugging her forward and pressing their bodies closer together. He moved them, confident steps forward until her back was pressed against the wall and his hands firmly grasped her arse, pulling her upwards until all that was holding her up was the weight of his pelvis pressing against hers and the friction of her back against the wall. 

The seam of his trousers rubbed against the lace-appliqued cotton covering her core as his hips shifted, further wicking the low-burning flame in her belly. Strong arms bracketed her frame, one hand ghosting across her neck, the gentle pressure from the pads of his fingers sending her mind into a tailspin of desire. His lips were like fire against her skin as he pulled back, laying a line of kisses over the curve of her jaw and along the line of her cheek. She couldn’t have stopped the cant to her hips had she wanted to, needing to feel the thickness of him beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

It had been years since they had been together like this, years removed from the hurried couplings and frantic kisses shared by teenagers, but now time stretched before them, an endless abyss that would only end when the sun once more arced across the sky. She didn’t know what the morning would bring, but Hermione was intent to savour this moment, to savour him. 

His hand drifted over the soft skin of her chest, pausing at the swell of her decolletage, as his voice, thick and syrupy, rasped the syllables of his language, forming words in hers, “Is this okay? Do you want to stop?” 

Her fingers slipped out of his hair, blunted nails drawing through the dark hair covering his jaw until her palms cupped his face. Dark eyes, thunderous and full of want, met her gaze. “If you ask me again if I want to stop, Viktor Krum, I will personally  _ shatter _ your broom.” 

His dark chuckle sent a thrill up her spine as he captured her lips once more, tongue pressing insistently at the seam of her lips, begging entrance eagerly granted. Her hips rolled forward, meeting the thrust of his own as his hand slipped beneath the fabric of her dress and into her brassiere. Two fingers pinched one of her nipple and she gasped, fingers falling away from his face to curl around his shoulders as her back arched. 

“I see that hasn’t changed.” The sound of his voice vibrated against her cheek, the teasing lilt to it making a laugh bubble up from her throat. 

“No, definitely not that,” she agreed, though she couldn’t help but think of everything that had changed since she saw him last. Wider hips, thicker thighs, a softer stomach—the figure of a woman, no longer a girl concerned with the length of her skirts and doing anything other than studying in the library. Even with all of the changes, the added kilos, he still lifted her with ease and made her feel beautiful with each touch. 

His lips dragged across the skin of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. “I wonder what has changed, Hermione.” 

Hermione’s fingers slipped into his hair and she angled his head up, her lips meeting his in a fierce kiss. “We have all night for you to find out.” 

“Thank the Gods for that,” he growled as his hands slipped between her back and the wall, tugging her close and lifting her up. 

“Viktor! What are you doing?” she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. 

“I thought it was obvious,” he said, carrying her through the suite and pushing open the door to the bedroom with his hip. Hermione didn’t even have time to examine the space before she was dropped onto the bed and his body covered hers, thumbs rubbing mind-numbing circles over the inside of her thighs. 

“Tell me what you want, Hermione.” The sound of Viktor’s voice was thick and when she met his eyes, hands reaching and curling around his inked forearms, she found herself without hesitation or reservation. 

“You… this.  _ Us. _ ”

His hands stilled and his head tilted slightly as she pulled one hand back, pressing up with her elbow and balancing on her arm to lean up into him. Her other hand slid over his arm, brushing the fabric of his shirt before her fingers sank into his hair. “I want you, Viktor… and for longer than just tonight.” 

The feel of his lips against hers sent a thrill through her body, one arm threading around her torso and holding her against him, off of the mattress. “It’s always been you,” he whispered, words ghosting across her lips and she shivered at the significance. “But it won’t be easy.” 

Her head shook, curls bouncing as she nipped at his full lower lip, catching it between her teeth with a playful tug. “It won’t… but I don’t want to think any more of what might have been.” Hermione’s nose brushed against his, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss. 

“Only what  _ will _ be,” Viktor said, lowering her back to the bed and pressing his thighs against her legs, hands skating over her still-clothed curves. A quiet thrill washed over Hermione’s body, the intensity of knowing their intentions were synchronous nearly overwhelming her. 

He rocked into her, the sticky gusset of her knickers pressing against her core with each grind of his lips as kissed her once more. Her mind fell blissfully blank as she sank into the feeling of his body surrounding her, the scent of his cologne, and the pleasure building in her abdomen. Viktor’s hands once again found her thighs, thumbs rubbing soft teasing circles, before slipping lower, his fingers brushing the edge of her knickers. 

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop.” 

His caution and care were simultaneously endearing and infuriating when all her mind could process was how much she craved his touch. “I’ll tell you,” she promised, arching forward and pressing her covered quim more firmly against his fingers, “But if anything, I’ll beg for more.” 

Blessedly, his fingers finally slipped beneath the band, sliding through her slick folds with ease. “That’s my girl.”

“Yours, yes.” The words tumbled out on a moan as his fingers circled her clit before dipping back down and sinking into her. 

Her body closed tightly around him, bolts of euphoria skittering across her skin as his thumb brushed her clit. His touch was patient, methodical as his fingers explored her sex, learning it as if he were studying a play-book until she gave up each little secret on a gasp or moan. He pulled her to the edge, easing back and teasing with his fingers as she hovered just at the edge of bliss.

Syllables poised at the pout of her lips, ready to chide him for teasing, never gained wings as his fingers delved into her with surprising precision and her mind went blank. She felt the breath of his praises whisper over her skin as she grasped for anything tangible she might hold—his shirt, his arms, his shoulders—to keep her tethered to the earth. The world lay in fragments around her, thoughts jagged and sharp as he steadily prolonged her pleasure, building her to a second peak. She writhed beneath him, his strong frame holding her in place as he pulled a second wave from her, the ease of the flow washing away the fragments and leaving a serene calm in their place. 

When Hermione managed to open her eyes, it was to the sight of Viktor staring down at her  _ smirking.  _ “Don’t be cocky,” she teased, voice rasping and syrupy, her hand reaching up to stroke his clothed thigh. 

His hands landed on either side of her head and she eagerly leaned up and kissed him, their lips lingering before Viktor spoke. “I’ve missed seeing you like this.” 

Hermione’s brow raised and she brushed her nose against his. “I’ve rather missed seeing you in less clothing, but if you’ve somehow developed a ki—” Her teasing words were cut off by a press of his hand over her mouth and her eyes sparkled when they met his gaze. 

“Be good.” 

Hermione shook her head, hand curling around his and pulling it away from her mouth and he sat back on his knees. “Where’s my incentive?” 

His fingertips stroked over the exposed skin of her chest, “Do you need pretty baubles now, Hermione? Some trinket so you’ll behave?”

She arched her back, urging his fingers lower. “I might, if you refuse to give me what’s in your trousers.” 

“So impatient.” 

She nearly growled at him. “I’ve come twice and I’m still fully clothed.” 

His hands slipped along the curve of her thighs until his knuckles hooked around the band of her knickers. “But you’ve come twice.” 

“This is your singular warning that I  _ will _ vanish everything on both of our bodies if you don’t hurry up.” 

The intensity in her eyes and the hard set of her shoulders only seemed to spur him on. His hands tugged her knickers down over the supple curves of her thighs as he held her gaze. “Little girls who don’t do as they’re told get their arses spanked, or have you forgotten, Hermione?” His hands stilled, leaving the damp gusset of her knickers clinging to her folds and blood rushing through her ears at his implication. “Is that what you want, baby girl? Why you’re being so impatient?” 

Her mouth must have opened and closed several times before she found her voice. “I… Daddy,  _ please _ .” The words rushed over her lips, her entire body blooming with heat beneath the intensity of his gaze. It had been years since she’d uttered those two words, years removed from  _ this _ sort of play, but the sheer prospect of it left her body thrumming with need. 

Thick hands pressed her thighs together before her knickers were drawn fully down and discarded somewhere on the floor, giving him full unfettered access to her sex. He drew one of her calves up until it rested along his shoulder and his head turned to kiss the muscle, his hand coaxing her other thigh to fall open. 

“Good girl.” 

The weight of his words sent a thrill through Hermione’s body and she let herself fall pliant beneath him. She could be good, she could wait. 

He pressed one final kiss to the curve of her leg, lifting it off of his shoulder and urging her to roll onto her stomach. She complied, arms tucked beneath her head and legs pressed together. She nearly felt his dark chuckle as he flipped the skirt of her dress up over her bum, large hand sinking into the flesh of her arse and squeezing. 

When his hand drew away, she couldn’t stop the whimper that left her mouth. “Do you remember the words, Hermione?” 

She didn’t even have to think, simply rattled off the safe-words they’d established years ago when a drunken night revealed more than either of them had been expecting to share with the other. 

Though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the smile—the pride in his voice when he spoke. “Gods, you’re perfect.” His hand stroked the curve of her arse, palm heavy against her flesh. “Not a punishment, but a prelude. Do you still want it?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she said, her hips wiggling just a bit until she felt the thick grip of his hand press into her arse, stopping her movement. 

He held her there as his body leaned forward, lips ghosting against the shell of her ear. “Then ask for it.” 

Hermione’s teeth sank into the plump flesh of her lower lip, the silence stretching between them as she fought to find the words she hadn’t said in so long. But they came, quiet and with heat suffusing her cheeks. “Daddy, I want you to spank me.” 

She expected the blow to come, or the sweet words or praise falling from his perfect mouth, but neither did. Instead, his grip on her body loosened and his fingers slipped down along her thigh. “I believe I told you to make a request, not tell me what you want. Have you forgotten how to listen, baby girl?” 

The sting of a sharp breath filled her lungs, but Merlin, if it didn’t make her body feel that much more on fire. The words came easier this time, slipping over her tongue as her desire grew. “Will you spank me, Daddy?  _ Please _ ?” 

“Much better,” he cooed. She waited for the inevitable sting but once again, it failed to come, replaced instead by a lack of sensation and the feel of him shifting off of the bed. She bit her tongue, trying not to ask what he was doing, trying to be patient. Even if she were out of practice, she knew this wait. Wait and be rewarded or press and be punished, and by this point, she might spontaneously combust if he didn’t give in and give her what she needed. 

She kept her breathing steady as she waited, the rustle of clothing dropping to the floor coming from behind her. Her toes curled and legs shifted as she tried to be patient as seconds stretched into minutes. She felt the bed dip again and his fingers brush over the fabric of her dress until he drew the zipper down. 

“You’ve been so good, Hermione. So patient. Shift up onto your knees for me.” She obeyed, moving her body until she was propped up on her hands and knees. His arm wrapped around her torso and drew her up fully, hands skating beneath the fabric of her dress and swiftly pulling it off over her head from behind. The clasp of her bra was opened with a flick of his fingers and the foundation garment was swiftly discarded, leaving her fully bare before him. His arms circled her body from behind, pulling her back against his chest as he pressed a sweet kiss to her temple. 

She sank back into his touch, savouring the feel of his bare chest against her back and his arms wrapped around her torso. One hand swept along her sternum before closing around her breast, fingers drawing outward to massage her nipple to a stiff peak. Hermione’s head fell back against his shoulder, soft whimpers falling from between her lips as her hands covered his forearm. 

His other hand slid over the softness of her stomach, fingers slipping once more between her folds as he teased her breasts, pinching and tugging at her nipples, laying a line of gentle kisses across her shoulder. The warring sensations became overwhelming and she rocked against his hand, seeking  _ more. _ Viktor’s fingers slipped lower, thick digits sinking into the slick warmth of her core and nearly sending her spiraling. 

“Please, please, please,” she whined, the words soft puffs of air as she gripped his arm trying to hold on. 

The scruff lining his jaw brushed her cheek before his lips dropped a sweet kiss at the edge of her mouth, his body draped around hers, holding her tightly to him at the edge of oblivion.

“No.” 

“Daddy!” The word was louder and more insistent than she realized but she was  _ right fucking there _ and then his hands stopped moving. She didn’t even recognize the sound that came out of her mouth—it was needy and wanton and full of a desperation she hadn’t felt in  _ so long _ . Hermione rocked her hips against his hand, seeking that inevitable freefall, but he pulled his hand away, leaving a sticky trail along her thigh. 

“Tsk tsk, baby girl. I thought I told you to be patient.” 

“Viktor…” his name tumbled from her lips as her body trembled against him, “I… I need—”

The flat of his palm, pressed against her chest as it moved upward to lightly curl around her neck. His thumb tenderly stroked the sensitive column as his fingers tightened infinitesimally, reminding Hermione exactly who was in control. 

His mouth rested against the shell of her ear, “Shhh, Hermione. I know exactly what you need and I promise, if you’re good, you’ll get exactly that.” 

She shivered against him, tension in her core slowly unwinding, and she nodded. 

“Good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss just at the edge of her cheek as his hand slipped across her hip and dipped, once more, through her folds. 

Careful strokes and the light pressure of his hand wrapped around her throat was all it took to pull her back to the edge. The tension snapped back into place, tightening with each stroke of his fingers. Rough words were whispered into her ear, platitudes and praises about how he’d missed her, how wet she was, how perfect he found her. But just before the string snapped, he pulled away once more and pressed her forward onto the bed. 

Her head pillowed against her hands and her back arched, leaving her arse and cunt on full display. The press of his knees against her calves kept her spread wide, his fingers teasing and probing her pink folds once more, gathering the wetness at the tips before smearing it across her arse. 

The sharp sting of the first smack caught her by surprise, her mind having already moved worlds away from how she’d asked him to spank her. Heat bloomed in her arse and she felt the walls of her quim contract with the flush of warmth. Viktor’s hand rubbed the reddened mark before bestowing a second one to match upon her other cheek. 

His thumbs slipped between her folds, hands tugging her arse cheeks and slit apart and she flushed, knowing he was simply looking— _ admiring _ . Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, not simply from the mild sting in her arse but from the build-up of everything they had experienced tonight. A reconnection, a spark, a reminder deep in the recesses of her mind that this was not a singular night of pleasure. The muscles in her body released and she fell pliant once more, sinking into the knowledge that he would take care of her, even if he led her to the cusp of madness first. 

The blows came slowly, interspersed with sweet words and soft caresses. They were precise, measured, as if he had some strategy in his mind for how best to wind her body as he had been doing all night. She trembled and writhed, overstimulated tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as each new burst of heat spread over her arse, his fingers gathering the wetness coating her folds and teasing her with gentle presses of his fingers. 

“Daddy,” she moaned, her hips shifting to find more sweet pressure. 

His fingers stilled just out of reach of where she wanted them. “Yes, baby girl?” 

“Will you fuck me… please?” She was past the point of inhibition, reduced to a needy pliant mess with a burning arse and dripping cunt. 

“In a bit.” She could hear the smile in his voice and while she knew he was humble for a Quidditch player, evidently she’d misremembered how smug he could be about other things and how he had the control of a sentinel. “You have something to do first.” 

Had she missed a command somewhere as she teetered on the edge? “I do?” 

“I think you’ll figure it out.” She felt him shift off of the bed, hands tugging gently at her ankles, urging her to do the same and she realized ages ago he had removed his own clothing. She felt it, the heavy weight of his cock at her back when he’d teased her, but she still hadn’t seen him undressed. 

“ _ Oh. _ Oh, yes.” She shifted off of the bed, knees weak and thighs sticky as she stood to her full height, Viktor’s strong arms wrapping around her and keeping her upright. His hand cupped her cheek and he bent at the waist to draw her into a kiss. There was a quiet significance to the way in which he kissed her, filled with warmth and need but also intention and care. The feeling of his deliberate movements,  _ showing her _ how he felt in the simple action, made her chest tighten and magic flare to life in her veins. 

The teasing smile returned when he pulled back and her hands slipped over the thick muscles of his chest, down his abdomen until she found the rigid length of his cock. Her hand curled around him and his forehead fell against hers with a deep groan. Her thumb pressed against the thick vein on the underside, drawing up and over the head and back down again. Hermione sank to her knees without needing to be told, taking the time to drag her eyes over his torso. She would study his tattoos later, dark inky marks and colorful swirls that bled from his arms onto his shoulders and chest, but her focus returned to the thick cock in her hand. 

Viktor’s hand swept into her curls, hand cupping the back of her head and she leaned forward, lips parting to sweep her tongue along the head of him. She took her time, teasing and tasting, stroking with the barest pressure before she opened her mouth and took him inside. Her lips curled around the tip, gentle suction and pressure of her tongue pulling soft noises of pleasure from his throat. She lowered and drew back, slowly coating him in her saliva until he slid over her tongue with ease. 

“Touch yourself, Hermione,” he said, his fingers tightening in her curls as she pressed her nose against his pelvis, holding him against the back of her throat for the space of several heartbeats. She drew back and inhaled sharply before taking him fully back into her mouth, fingers wandering between her thighs to tease her sensitive bud. She was slick and swollen, impossibly hot, and she knew that when he finally sheathed himself inside of her, the stretch alone would numb her mind. She moaned around his length as she teased herself, light touches, not daring anything harder than a whisper of her fingers lest she snap the tension of the string he had been so carefully winding all night. Even though she had begged for it, pleaded within to let her come, she was glad for the wait because she wanted to feel his thick length within her when she did, knowing the wait will have been worth it. 

“That’s it, baby girl, just like that,” he crooned as she took him deeper, letting him direct her movements,  _ using her _ to build his own pleasure, patiently building her own. She pulled her fingers away from her quim for just a moment and coated his cock in her wetness, the taste of them mingling together on her tongue. 

Viktor eased her back, releasing her curls when his length, hard and thick, fell against her kiss-swollen lips. She pressed a kiss to the tip before he helped her to her feet, holding her steady as the feeling returned. He tucked her head against his chest until his breathing slowed, fingers skating over her back. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding him tightly as if he might disappear should she let go. 

His hands swept into her curls and he tilted her face up, seeking her eyes. “Us, yeah?” 

She nodded, a smile crossing her lips. “Us.” 

One of his brilliant smiles, one of the secret ones held only for her, spread across his face before he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. It was too soon for declarations, but Hermione could see the path she had set herself upon with such clarity that it made her dizzy. 

He turned them toward the bed, strong arms bracketing her frame as he laid her back over the mattress. She moved back and he settled in the cradle of her parted thighs, the dull sting in her arse flaring as the tops of his thighs met the inside of hers. Viktor leaned over her, thumb brushing the high of her cheek as he kissed her. Hermione’s arms threaded around his shoulders, fingers sinking into his dark hair. He rocked against her, thick length sliding between her slick folds, bumping her clit and drawing small, sweet noises of pleasure from between her lips. 

“Please,” she whispered in the space of a moment where their lips parted, “I need you, Viktor.” 

His hands left her cheeks, drawing euphoric lines over her supple curves before taking his cock in hand and aligning it at her entrance. He eased her folds apart, sticky and slick from their earlier extensions before he slowly canted his hips forward, pressing into her. He bent over her once more, bracing himself on his hand, the other taking a hold of her hip. 

“I need you too,” he whispered as he sank deeper within her swollen quim. 

Her body reeled in wicked delight as her slick walls stretched around him until he was fully sheathed inside of her. Hermione’s lips parted, soft syllables tumbling from her lips as she basked in the feeling of fullness—of rightness—of being so intimately connected. Soft lips brushed against her own as he began to rock, twin moans falling from their lips with each easy thrust. The build was slow, sensual, not frantic and fragmented like before, and she sank into it. Each caress of their lips, the brush of her hands over the thick muscle of his torso, the feel of his fingers pressing divots into her hips sent her higher. 

She felt each perfect inch of him, her hips rising to meet his in that ages-old dance, the head of his cock brushing over the areas deep within that made starlight burst behind her eyes. She held his gaze, seeking the intimate connection that had formed between them as her pleasure built. The weight of his gaze, the intensity held within burned with the promise of  _ what would be _ . It was better than anything she could have imagined, better than any dream or wish she may have wanted to hold onto. But now that he was here—real and tangible—those apparitions paled in comparison to the man he had become. 

Hermione’s hand slipped between them, fingers nudging her clit, drawing her once more to the edge as the speed of his thrusts increased. The sound of her name fell from his lips like a prayer, something spoken with reverence and devotion, and she echoed his sentiments when his name escaped her mouth on a quiet moan. 

Each drive of his hips drew her closer to oblivion, the rigid length of his cock and the gentle swirls of her fingers euphoric. He stayed close, her nipples skimming his chest with each thrust, lips dancing over her cheeks and mouth, hips grinding against her own. Sensation built and bloomed, the string held taught within her snapping and releasing a flood of rapture through her veins. The thick scent of latent magic filled the air around them as she crested, drawing a golden thread between them as Viktor found his end, thick lines of his spend coating her walls as they squeezed and pulsed around him. 

Her body trembled beneath him, arms desperately holding this beautiful, perfect man against her, as molten waves of pleasure washed over her. He kissed her and something compulsory and insatiable snapped inside of her. His fingers slipped between them and found her clit, sensitive and swollen and he pressed, working her body into another frenzy with just a few precise flicks of his fingers. 

“One more,” he rasped against her lips before his tongue slipped between them, deepening the kiss and swallowing her cries as the golden thread between them stretched and pulled, growing stronger with each pulse of her body. Her magic bloomed around them like a tangible thing, thick in the air and mingling with his as she crested again, nails sinking into the flesh of his shoulders as her body shuddered. He pulled back, growling against the hollow of her throat as his own pleasure was prolonged by each tight clench of her walls around him. 

Weightlessness flooded her body and her mind slipped into the in-between where night and day were indistinguishable and the stars were indeterminate. He moved over her with gentle thrusts of his hips until she sank back into the mattress, body heavy with exertion and mind swimming as she moved from beyond the veil of pleasure and back into reality. A quiet smile spread over her lips and her eyes opened to find him still hovering over her body. She tilted her chin, brushing her lips against the scruff of his jaw until he leaned down and kissed her sweetly. 

Moments stretched between them, neither daring to move or daring to think about the implications of their magic coalescing until Hermione gently patted Viktor’s shoulder and he withdrew from her. She felt the flood of their combined euphoria coat her thighs, ignoring the slick feeling for the moment and choosing to move her body so she could rest her head against his chest. Viktor’s arm fell around her, drawing her close as the sound of their breaths filled the near-silent space, witch and wizard basking in the closeness, the feeling of serenity that their bodies pressed together brought. Hermione’s leg draped over his thigh as his hand traced a line of runes along the curve of her arm. 

Words seemed insignificant compared to what had passed between them. 

Hermione knew, that while their night might end when sunlight broke over the horizon, that their days spent together were only beginning. Arrangements would need to be made, Roslin would need to be told, the Ministry would need to be notified, but all of that could wait. 

All that mattered now was  _ what could have been _ had become their reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Please place all blame on Google Translate if the tiny bit of Bulgarian used here is translated incorrectly. 
> 
> Zdraveĭ za teb, sladkoto mi slŭnchitse. -- Hello to you, my sweet little sun.


End file.
